


Running Rock

by splkespiegel



Category: Cowboy Bebop
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6021847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splkespiegel/pseuds/splkespiegel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jet had no time to feel small, and no time to be useless.<br/>Set during Session 5, Ballad of Fallen Angels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Rock

****Jet’s comm rang from his belt just as his clippers slipped and chopped off a branch of the bonsai he was tending. He carefully set the clippers on the table before ripping the comm from its holster and answering the call.

“Oh God, Jet, it’s Spike!” Faye’s voice crackled from the other end. “He’s –”

“Tough!” Jet shouted back, cutting her off. He hung up before she could get another word in.

Staring at the mangled branch, he took a moment to weigh his options. He was still angry at Spike for running off into something he couldn’t handle. He had half a mind to let the kid work himself out of his own mess, and if he came back, then he came back; if he didn’t….

“Dammit.” Jet cursed, more at himself than anything else, and bolted towards the cargo hold.

As his Hammerhead roared to life, he pulled his comm back up to trace Faye’s call. He punched the coordinates to an old cathedral in the slums of Tharsis into the control panel and took off like the wind.

He could already see Spike’s body lying on the steps of the building when he landed. He rushed over to the doors, pulling a first aid kit from his belt, and kneeled down where Spike had fallen.

Jet’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the scene. Spike had glass stuck in every part of him, a deep gash in his cheek, a bullet in his side, clearly broken bones in his legs. Jet felt his soul pounding against the walls of its oversized vessel, screaming that it was too small to fix this, too weak to fix this, that it was useless.

He steeled his soul against those walls and got to work putting pressure on Spike’s wounds. He had no time to feel small, and no time to be useless. That could wait. Spike could not.

Even as he and Faye were rocketing back towards the Bebop, with the Swordfish in tow and Spike propped up in the Hammerhead’s cockpit, Jet felt the struggling of tiny fists fighting against their bonds. His soul wailed at the sight of the blood on its cage’s hands, the blood on the control panel – Spike’s blood.

Jet’s face betrayed nothing as muted cries reverberated in his ears, telling him that this was his fault for being too weak to stop Spike from leaving. He focused instead on digging his feet into the dirt, being the immoveable wall he was somehow meant to be. What was it that Old Man Bull always called him? Running Rock? He grabbed hold of the name and held it fast. He had to be the rock, yet he had to keep moving. No one else could.


End file.
